Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 31: Reconciliation?

YEAR 300 AC

―At King's Landing―

Red Keep ― Royal bedchamber...

Daveth Baratheon, now 19 years old, stood in front of his mirror. Time often has an odd way of showing its hand; on one hand, it was kind but simultaneously played a cruel, sick joke. It's been more than two years since his ascent to the Iron Throne and he's repaid the crown's financial debts, put down a rebellion, and defend the city against initially overwhelming odds. His former Hand, Lord Eddard Stark, had passed away; and in his place, Daveth appointed his grandfather Lord Tywin Lannister as Hand of the King.

The Oathkeeper stared shirtless at his reflection, tracing the tip of his finger along the scar going across his left eye. The maesters, including Pycelle and Robb's traveling medical companion Talisa Maegyr, told Daveth how lucky he was to still be able to keep that eye. Any inch deeper and it would have been lost. His beard was slightly shaved, but allowed his long black ravened-haired to be neatly trimmed. His pectoral, abdominal and biceps had grown rather muscular and kept his body in peak physical condition. But at the same time Daveth looked so tired; lines had formed under his eyes that made him look a bit older. Some believed it to be either stress or sleepless nights to the point where courtiers began voicing their concerns to Tywin. The Old Lion instructed his grandson to get a few moments of rest before he was able to resume his kingship responsibilities.

More news arrived that Lysa Arryn and her assembled guards were on their way to swear fealty. The night before Daveth had already kept himself busy in a meeting with Lord Mace Tyrell and his mother Lady Olenna Redwyne the Queen of Thorns to discuss peace terms... and the exchange between Mace's son and heir Loras and Daveth's uncle Ser Jaime.

It was his first time meeting the Queen of Thorns in person...

ooOoo

"Your Grace, on behalf of House Tyrell and the people of the reach, I swear to you we had no part in any of this. You know that we—" Mace Tyrell spoke like a pompous oaf.

"Had no idea your son and heir would strike out on his own after Highgarden announced its intent to surrender?" Daveth finished. "I'm certain some would find that rather amusing, Lord Tyrell. Your House has already turned their backs on the Crown when they chose to side with my traitorous uncle Renly Baratheon. Let me take an ample guess: did Renly employ the use of his gallant demeanor, charm? Did he offer your family a position at court?"

"But I—"

Lady Olenna sighed and decided it was time to intervene. "Not now, Mace!" she snapped at her son. "Your uncle was gallant, yes, Your Grace. And charming and very clean. He knew how to dress and smile and somehow believed this gave him the notion he was fit to be King."

"Yet from what I've heard your grandson was rather... 'well-acquainted' with Renly, often at times entering his chambers. Squires and pages that do well for themselves are known to have connections to the court, no doubt. Some believed he even whispered such poison into his ear and he followed through on it. Do you deny them?"

"Of course, I deny—" Mace spoke again.

"Mace!" Olenna lectured him again as she sat up straight in her chair. The elderly matriarch of House Tyrell had white hair and was very small, with soft, spotted hands with gaunt thin fingers. As mistress of court politics, plotting and intrigue, Olenna rarely shies from stating her opinion and is known as a wizened, cunning old woman with a wicked wit and sharp tongue – her cutting, barbed comments and the rose thorns in references to the sigil of House Tyrell which attributed to her nicknamed 'the Queen of Thorns.'